


Kreiner Eu De Misery

by yellowbessie



Category: Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowbessie/pseuds/yellowbessie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have a lot of feelings about Eight and Fitz and Interference and The Ancestor Cell. Most of the are sad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kreiner Eu De Misery

He leaves you time and time again. On so many different planets. For so many different women.   
You wish him well with an honest smile.   
The unspoken ’ _stay_ ,’ an ephemeral sin of omission.

When he comes back to you - as he always does - you want to kiss him.   
But don’t. He’ll taste like cigarettes.   
(That’s not the real reason.)

Eventually, it’s not _him_ that comes back. Just a copy, of a copy, of a copy.   
Remembered and misremembered so many times, he’s unrecognizable. Until your ship remakes him in his own image.  
You’ve rebuilt him. But can you rebuild his trust?

Some time later (days? millennia?), neither of you are the same as when you met.   
When they say that travel changes you, this isn’t what they mean.   
Father and Grandfather, you really are a pair. Missing arms, missing shadows. Hearts twisted with hate.   
You used to think you could recover from anything.   
_While there’s life, there’s hope._   
But now you’re not so sure.

It’s not your first fight, but the first one that matters.   
He stares into his mug. Doesn’t look up when you sit down.   
The narrow kitchen table doesn’t represent the distance between you.   
_These stupid memories - they’re not even mine._  
He hated you so much. You didn’t come back. You left me!   
Needing to see something as broken as he feels, he hurls the mug at the wall. Droplets of tea slide down like tears. He stares at the ceramic shards.   
When he storms off, you let him go, knowing you can’t be the one to comfort him now.   
Just do what you can. Grab a broom to clean up the mess.   
Tea doesn’t make everything better.

The hallways echo with the sound of his melancholic guitar.   
No matter where you go, you can’t escape his nimble fingers plucking at your guilt.   
Such sadness in six strings. Even the major thirds sound minor.   
You’ve been to the most moving performances in history, but none have affected you like this.

The door to his room remains closed, so you leave small offerings to the ghost of your friendship.   
(A Charlie Christian album. Lemon scones. An old, beat-up paperback of Casino Royale.)   
Each time you return, the hallway is empty.   
The door still closed.

Until, eventually, he seeks you out.   
Standing awkwardly in the cavernous console room, like a brittle, hollow thing on the verge of collapse.   
The flickering candlelight highlights new shadows on his face.   
Smoke, beer, and stale sweat scent the air: Kreiner _eu de misery_.

You shouldn’t have left him alone.

He’s too tall, too tense, too thin.   
And he’s hurting so much you would do _anything_ to make it better.   
So you wrap your arms around him, molding yourself to his body.   
He doesn’t react, not yet. But at least he’s _here._   
At least he’s safe.

You want him to be safe and happy.   
You want him to have a normal life, and an extraordinary life.   
You want him to leave, and you want him to _never_ leave.

You want _so many things_ for this human.  
But the conflicting desires negate each other.   
Leaving only the two of you, frozen together.

When he finally _(finally)_ hugs you back, you ache with relief.  
Rubbing soothing circles on his back, you whisper promises that everything will be alright.  
You’ll _make_ it alright.   
That’s what you do.

And you know this is just a small step in the right direction.   
That recovery, like your adventures, is non-linear.

You don’t know what you want, or what he wants.   
You don’t know what will happen.   
But he’s here with you.   
And, for right now, that’s enough.


End file.
